


Mind on Fire

by ssa_archivist



Series: In Clark's Mind [3]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-13
Updated: 2002-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 10:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slashy little epilogue to "In Clark's Mind" and "Alien Thoughts."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little epilogue to "In Clark's Mind" and "Alien Thoughts." Those stories aren't integral to this one, but they'd probably make it more fun.

## Mind on Fire

by Lemur

<http://www.geocities.com/jerboa_lemur>

* * *

Author's 

Disclaimers: I don't own them. I just like to put words in their mouths and minds. 

Rating: NC-17 

Feedback: Please! Lemur710@aol.com 

_Mind on Fire_

By Lemur 

If he ever dared to tell someone about this in the future, Clark knew he'd never be able to put together the events in their right order. There had been a produce delivery, a casual invitation to dinner...and then somehow, the servants had all been dismissed and the casual dinner moved to the upstairs den where a fire burned in the fireplace, Beethoven's piano sonatas played on the stereo, and a large, plush, likely expensive and foreign rug covered the floor. 

And it was flat on his back on that rug that Clark now found himself. He felt dizzy in the best way possible with Lex's full weight pressed against him, their mouths locked on one another. The kissing wasn't so different from the sort they had been doing infrequently for the past several months, but they were lying down. What a difference that one little change in position made. 

Though he tried hard not to, Clark trembled all over. He knew it was excitement and not fear...well, it was a little bit of fear. He was afraid he'd do something wrong, he was afraid that he'd be terrible at whatever it was they were about to do, he was afraid that he'd have to admit he didn't really _know_ what they were about to do... 

Abruptly, Lex sat back on his heels, his knees resting on the rug, straddling Clark's legs. Clark feared the worst of all: an attack of conscience, but that was quickly laid to rest by both the dark glimmer in Lex's eyes and the haste with which he unbuckled his belt. Clark tried to burn the image into memory, the image of a lusty-eyed Lex hastily yanking his belt from its loops as he leaned forward to crush himself to him again. He couldn't imagine he'd ever see a hotter, more visceral sight. 

Clark's heart thundered and he felt light-headed, which didn't surprise him. Judging by the feel of his jeans, which had been perfectly comfortable when he'd put them on this morning, his blood was pumping at an alarming rate and not a drop of it was going to his head, or anywhere else above his waist. And apparently, Lex was suffering from the same deficiency. 

It was an unusual sensation, the feeling of hard heat against hard heat. It was one that Clark had never imagined he'd feel - or enjoy - but here he was, doing both. Lex shifted his hips, creating unexpected friction and Clark tried not to cry out. Yes, he was _definitely_ enjoying it. Lex licked across his closed lips, impatiently asking them to open once more and they did. 

Clark felt a moan low in his throat as Lex's tongue stroked against his. Lex tasted different. There was a sharp, dusky flavor that hadn't been there the times before. The brandy, Clark suddenly realized. It must be the brandy Lex had had after dinner. He dragged his tongue against Lex's top lip and found the flavor lingered there even more strongly. Yes, he would most certainly have to try brandy. 

A hand on either side of Clark's head, Lex propped himself up to his hands and knees. Clark's hands closed around his waist and he was happy to find that his dress shirt had come loose from the waist of his slacks. And there was skin there, warm skin to be touched and no longer just assumed to exist. 

Lex's kiss became slower, more languid and antithetically, Clark's pulse quickened. Lex had to be slowing down for a reason and Clark didn't think it was to stop. He was almost certain it was to make sure he was ready to go further. He resisted the desire to shout, "Yes! Absolutely!" 

Despite Clark's best efforts to make it otherwise, the kiss continued to slow until it was entirely agonizing, just lips and hot breath, as his fingers moved nervously against the smooth skin of Lex's waist. Then, with a parting flick of his tongue against Clark's top lip, Lex stopped, staring down into his eyes. 

Whatever this relationship was, whatever it was going to be, Clark had never felt closer to Lex - and it had nothing to do with the fact that he had spent a good part of the evening under him. Consciously, he'd never be able to put it into words; it was electricity, a charge between them that defied any sense of logic and nature that he had ever thought he'd understood. 

He might have said they felt equal, but they felt like more than equals, they felt _beyond_ equal. It sometimes felt they were of the same skin, the same mold. And maybe in a way they were. Their identities had both been formed on the same day years ago when the meteors had fallen and then redefined that day on the bridge. The moments that Clark considered the two most integral of his life both included Lex. No matter how close he felt to his parents, Lex felt closer. 

Then, feeling Lex's hand slide to his shoulder and noticing the look in his eyes, Clark realized this was no time to be thinking about his parents. 

Lex softly ghosted his lips across his, fitting perfectly with the slow lilting of the piano music. The sound and sensation blended together so seamlessly that Clark's heart skipped a beat, startled by the plain perfection of that one brief moment. He felt his breaths coming and going with embarrassing irregularity. He never got winded, so why was he panting now? Then again, the people in the movies always seemed to pant, so maybe he was doing the right thing, doing what a normal, human boy would do in this situation. 

A long-fingered hand slid down to rest over his heart. He could feel his pulse thudding against the pressure of Lex's hand and he knew Lex had to feel it too, even through layers of cotton and plaid. "You don't have to be nervous," Lex whispered, his lips still close enough that Clark almost felt the words more than heard them. 

"Yeah, right," Clark managed to breathe back, his heart still thundering against the flat of Lex's palm. 

Lex laughed quietly. "Is there anything I can do to make you relax?" 

Clark thought he must be joking. The flat of Lex's thumbnail raked across his nipple and even through those same layers of cotton and plaid, it made him involuntarily arch his back, gasping. Now, he _knew_ he was joking. "Nothing comes to mind," he ground out, trying to sound much cooler than he felt. 

Managing to somehow smile seriously, Lex leaned down once more. Seconds later, Clark felt lips at his throat. The smoothness of bare scalp brushed against his cheek and he instantly decided that hair was extremely overrated. Unable to stop himself, he lifted one hand to the back of Lex' neck, the base of his skull. He wanted to feel that surprising softness with his fingers. 

Lex's hands moved to unfasten the first button on Clark's shirt and a wet tongue glided along his collarbone in perfect time with a bobbing decrescendo in the piano music. Clark decided he liked Beethoven. 

Nimble fingers continued down his chest, unbuttoning each button as they came to them. "I'm glad you wore this today," Lex murmured, his lips moving against the cotton of his undershirt. 

Clark was barely able to croak out, "Why?" as the thumb of Lex's splayed hand moved in lazy circles over one already fully-awake nipple. This didn't seem like a sensible time to be discussing fashion and for once, he was absolutely positive he wasn't misreading subtext. 

"Plaid and cotton." Lex breathed him in. "The fabric equivalent of you." Clark rolled the smooth silk of Lex's shirt between his fingers and decided he felt the same way, though he doubted he would have been able to find the words to say that. The silk slid within his grasp as if it wouldn't allow it to be held for long and, smoothing over his knuckles, he realized it made the roughness of his own skin imperceptible. 

As Lex continued to open his overshirt, Clark tried to bolster his courage. He wanted to turn the tables and press Lex against the wall like he'd always fantasized, though, granted, the floor had its charms, too, so maybe the floor instead. He wanted to touch Lex the way he was touching him, make him feel the same way. But more than all of that, he wanted to show him he wasn't just a willing body. He was...an interactive body. 

And still, he could not make his limbs move because the doubts remained. Lex was more experienced than he and while most of the time that was incredibly hot, it was, at the moment, extremely intimidating. What if he touched him wrong? Clark knew what he personally liked, but what if his tastes were just as alien as he was? Maybe a human man wouldn't like the same things he liked. 

He had too many worries, too many fears and so he remained all but motionless as Lex removed the obstacle of the last button and opened his plaid shirt wide. In Clark's defense, which he felt he had to come to, Lex couldn't doubt his interest. He writhed beneath him, though he tried to still what he thought must be an amateurish reaction to first-time sensations, and there was the little - well, hopefully not _little_ \- matter of the tightness of his jeans. 

Lex pulled the cotton t-shirt from the waist of his jeans, baring his stomach, and soon Clark felt lips and tongue against his skin. His muscles tightened and he felt overwhelmingly thankful that he had showered that morning. Then, without warning, though he couldn't imagine how such a warning would be phrased anyway, Lex slid his hand down to cup the bulge in his jeans which he currently hoped could be called "conspicuous." He hissed through clenched teeth. 

Fingers slid along his length and even through a layer of denim, Clark worried it was more than he could handle. Those skilled fingers, the tongue at his stomach, knowing that both belonged to Lex...he prayed that one of his alien abilities would prove to be stamina. 

"Sit up," Lex suddenly growled, then, as if noting the harshness of his own tone, he added, "please." Clark smiled nervously, happily. At least now he knew he wasn't the only one enjoying this. 

Clark did as told and no sooner were his shoulders lifted from the rug, than Lex began pulling off his plaid shirt. In their position now, Lex kneeling across his waist while he sat up, Clark saw his opportunity. Lex pulled the white t-shirt off over his head and as soon as his arms were free, Clark wrapped them around Lex, burying his face in his neck. Gasping in surprise, Lex gripped Clark's shoulders to steady himself while the younger boy did his best to kiss every inch of his throat. 

Between kisses, his words came in ridiculous, inarticulate bursts. "I've never felt..." he tried to say. "You feel..." He wasn't that eloquent when his mind was clear, so why he thought his lust-clouded mind would even be able to formulate a sentence was rather beyond him. But even though he couldn't recite sonnets or quote prose about seduction, he could kiss and touch in earnest. 

His movements weren't as skilled as Lex's: his slid his hands beneath the back of the silk shirt, pawing at the bare skin, but he needed to touch him, to tell him somehow. He didn't want to take control. He didn't want Lex to do anything differently than what he'd been doing, but he desperately wanted Lex to know how much he wanted this - wanted him. 

The hardness between Lex's legs pressed firmly against his chest and he felt...proud. That was probably the silly thought of a novice, but he couldn't stop it from entering his mind. He felt proud that he could make a man like Lex excited and eager and, well...hard. 

Kissing messily across the hollow of his neck, he looked up into Lex's eyes. "I want you...to understand," he managed to say. 

Lex wound one hand through his hair, his thumb stroking against his ear. "I do," he answered. And something about the way he looked at him made Clark feel as though he were naked, entirely independent from the reality that he nearly was. He couldn't understand how it was possible to feel this close to someone when they knew so little about one another. Lex's past, beyond whispers, gossip and speculation was a mystery to him. And he, of course, had his own secrets. 

So how was it that they could look at one another like this and see straight through the deceptions while simultaneously being blinded by them? 

Clark lowered back down, the buttons of Lex's shirt pricking against the bare skin on his chest as, never releasing his grasp, Lex stayed with him. Then, in an instant, Lex shifted, kissing and licking his way down the newly exposed expanse. 

He had said what he meant...well, at any rate, he had managed to _convey_ what he'd meant, even if words were predictably unforthcoming. He thought he should have felt more relaxed now, but as Lex's hands stroked against his sides - naked sides that hadn't been touched by anyone since he was a little boy - he felt anything but relaxed. This was his first time. His first time with anyone. 

Hurried fingers unfastened the top button of his jeans. He thought to grab Lex's hand and stop him, warn him that he didn't know what he was doing, that he had never done this before, but he stayed still, hoping that Lex had meant what he said, that he'd understand. 

The zipper lowered, sounding impossibly loud in his ears. Somewhere distant in his mind he wondered if it were always that loud or if he had just been listening for it. And the pressure, that intolerable tightness of his jeans was gone. He thought he should have felt relieved. He thought he should have at least been able to breathe, but there his breath remained, suddenly locked in his lungs, tense and waiting. 

Fire-warmed air swirled around him, feeling still cold in comparison to the make-shift denim sauna. This wasn't so different, he'd tried to tell himself. He'd been in this position before...only then he'd been alone, by himself, solo, unaccompanied, solitary. 

This was _completely_ different. 

It felt like a long, long time that he lay there, eyes clamped shut out of impending embarrassment or possibly the exertion of self-control to keep his body from over-reacting and ending this experience too soon. He felt his own familiar weight against his stomach and then something entirely unfamiliar: fingers - not his own - curling around, grasping him. His jaw clenched tight and he exhaled sharply through his teeth. Then, he was slowly enveloped in a heat he knew had to be Lex's mouth. 

He cried out loud in what he feared was a pathetically virginal manner and his hips involuntarily thrust forward, but for that, at least, Lex had prepared. Hands pressed tightly to him, keeping him held fast to the ground. Clark felt overwhelmingly thankful that his movement had been weak enough to be halted by a normal touch. 

Clark surrendered to the sensations, quickly realizing that they all felt better than he could have ever imagined. Lex's tongue, which had felt so smooth against his own, felt rougher, as if his most sensitive skin could feel every tastebud, every change in texture. He threw his head back, or rather, his head threw itself back in a low moan as Clark wasn't entirely in control of his own actions any more. 

An almost frightening primal instinct made his hands want to grasp Lex's head and control the rhythm himself, but his mind, those synapses that were still managing to fire properly, reminded him that he'd heard that that was rude, and so he gave his hands the task of clutching fruitlessly at the carpet as he writhed. 

His whole body felt reduced to the hard length between Lex's lips. The hands moved from his hips to stroke against his bare stomach or rub along his thighs, but those were only ghosts of sensations in comparison and somewhere, seemingly miles away, his toes stretched and wiggled with no input from his brain. He was on auto-pilot. 

Lex's tongue slid across the head, flicking against the slit in the top and Clark felt his whole body tightening. He was familiar with this reaction, he knew what it meant and it was not remotely lost on him that, for the first time, he was not alone while feeling this. Lex was here to see it. Lex had _caused_ it. 

Suddenly, Lex withdrew, moving quickly to stretch out at his side. He couldn't be entirely certain over the thundering of blood through his ears, but Clark thought he might have whimpered. Fortunately, it wasn't even a full second before the warmth of Lex's hand replaced his mouth. 

"I want to see you," Lex breathed huskily in his ear, answering the unspoken question. Clark felt his face flush what must have been an intense shade of scarlet as Lex began to stroke him, only serving to increase that ever mounting pressure. He hoped he had held on long enough, long enough that he seemed like a man and not a boy. 

But whether or not he had, Clark simply could not hold on any longer. With a cry that seemed ripped from the very base of his lungs piercing through his gritted teeth, he let go and the mounting pressure drained from his body in shuddering torrents. Lex did not ease his motions until Clark felt exactly like he'd always heard it described: spent. 

He lay motionless, chest heaving as he struggled to breath normally again, feeling Lex gently wiping him clean and marveling at how everything was affected by the tumult of his senses. He could hear nothing save the steadily slowing beat of his heart. Little flares of color broke across the plane of his vision, like when he closed his eyes after looking at the sun, and his limbs felt heavy and weak even as they continued to tremor through the aftershocks. Amazing how something that could make his body feel so strange could be so good. 

Lying equally motionless beside him, one arm resting against his chest, the other folded beneath his own head for support, Lex just waited. Gradually, Clark became aware of the world outside himself once more. He felt Lex touch a fevered kiss to his temple. And he felt a hitherto ignored hardness pressed against his leg. 

"Lex," he whispered sympathetically, forcing his lethargic limbs to turn him onto his side. If he'd ever needed proof that Lex Luthor had a selfless side, he had it now. Not that this was an anecdote he could use to convince anyone else of its existence. 

Lex easily rolled onto his back and Clark knew there had been an exchange of power. He was now the one in control. His heart's rhythm sped up once more. Lex had understood him better than he'd understood himself. Nervous, terrified, worried, he was all those things, but he also wanted this opportunity. He wanted to do this for Lex. And Clark realized that Lex had somehow known that. 

He could feel his heartbeat through him, from the top of his head, down to his toes and every part of him quaked with the deep, insistent thumps. His fingers trembled as he unbuttoned Lex's shirt. Somewhere in his head, he probably knew he should have gotten straight to the point, as it were, but his fascination took over. 

He wanted to see Lex. See his skin, feel it and see him react to his touches if he were so lucky. And so, he unbuttoned every one of the seemingly two hundred buttons and laid the shirt open wide as if unveiling a treasure, which the inner-nerd part of him felt he was. 

Smooth pale skin, narrow shoulders and sculpted muscles, chest so much smaller than his own, yet more defined. Clark felt an unexpected sense of awe, of which he might have been embarrassed had he been aware of anything except Lex. That Lex had a body beneath those immaculate clothes, let alone a body like this - Clark hadn't even known how to imagine it. 

His hands still shaky, he slid his palm across Lex's stomach, feeling and seeing the abdominal muscles tighten beneath him. He leaned over and tentatively licked across a nipple. The skin tightened against his tongue and Lex arched up, pushing himself closer. Even with all his powers, Clark had never felt more powerful. He flicked his tongue once more, hearing the sounds of Lex's soft moans fill his ears and feeling his hand slip through his hair to hold him near. Heat vision and super strength definitely had nothing on this. 

Lost in the fascinating reactions of Lex's body, Clark completely forgot what he was supposed to be doing. He forgot until Lex reminded him with a strained and needy, "Clark." 

"Oh, god," Clark said, suddenly recollecting. "I'm so sorry." Lex let out a strangled laugh. Clark's gaze drifted down Lex's half-exposed body to the bulge in his black slacks that he would definitely have called conspicuous. "Will you show me?" he asked, trying not to sound as completely virginal as he was almost certain he did. "I don't want to do anything wrong." 

"At this point," Lex answered with a slight smile, "the only thing you could do wrong is stop." He reached up to close his hand on top of Clark's resting on his shoulder and slowly lead him downward. Pulled along by Lex, the flat of his palm slid across a pebbled nipple and over each gentle groove and slope of muscled stomach. Clark watched as Lex guided his hand further and further down until both their hands disappeared beneath the black fabric. 

Both gasped in time with the first touch of their joined hands to the heat of Lex's length. Clark wasn't sure which held more interest: watching the rhythmic motions of their hands or seeing Lex caught and made completely defenseless by sensation. His eyes squeezed shut, Lex clenched his teeth or bit his lips, as if refusing to allow a true cry of pleasure to be heard. That didn't surprise Clark and he found the restrained groans and hisses just as intriguing. 

Lex's guiding hand weakened, allowing Clark to take primary, if not full control. He swallowed nervously, determined, and maintained the rhythm Lex had set, his fist sliding up and down in firm strokes. Then, feeling emboldened by his apparent success, he flicked his thumb across the tip. Lex actually cried out loud, his body shuddering just as Clark's had while the torrents of release wracked through him. 

Sliding his wet hand back up Lex's body, Clark rested it against the pounding beat of his heart through his ribcage and waited while the tremors through the warm body beside him slowed and dissipated. Clark tucked his head in beside Lex's, resting his chin on his shoulder. Cocking his head slightly, Lex touched a sweat-dampened temple to his forehead. The music swept through the air, the vibrant piano chords seeming suddenly loud in Clark's ears. Loud, and heart-shatteringly beautiful. 

"Lex...what song is this?" 

He heard Lex swallow and part tired lips. "Beethoven's Mondschien Sonate, Adagio sostenuto," he replied and Clark couldn't have imagined anything sexier. Lex, lips parted, breath still coming in short gasps, shirt open, chest bare, content, sated...and speaking foreign languages. "Moonlight Sonata," he translated. 

Lifting himself on one elbow, he kissed Lex deeply. Their tongues tangled lazily, languidly, both pleasantly exhausted. 

* * *

The End

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